


paralytic states

by classichysteria



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Female Character, Trans Jack, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classichysteria/pseuds/classichysteria
Summary: her gut wrenches and she forcibly holds the remnants of her past meals down every gruelling time someone calls them an “all male pop punk band”. they sure as hell were pop punk but she was pretty fucking sure she wasn’t a male.
Kudos: 7





	paralytic states

**Author's Note:**

> before my usual disclaimer i will say that jack is female in this fic, obviously, but when it’s sorta from an outsider point of view, he is referred to as he/him but otherwise he is she/her for the duration of this fic :) this is all fiction! none of this is   
> factual in the slightest, this is not a theory or a claim. simply fiction written with recognised characters. this is not meant to offend.

Her first memory of gender dysphoria happened when she was five years old, they asked the boys to take the blue paper and girls to take the pink. It was an easy task, it came naturally and of course she reached for a piece that was a dulled pink colour. The teacher slapped her hand away, “No Jack, you’re a boy! Take a blue piece.” She smiled down at the confused girl, of course she just looked like a puzzled little boy. 

It wasn’t too strong throughout her childhood, she enjoyed soccer just as much as she enjoyed barbies and she loved blue as much as she loved pink. The trouble only came when she did want to wear flowing princess dresses and paint her lips red, when she wanted her mother to brush her silky black hair like she brushed her sister’s. 

May loved having someone to dress up in pretty clothes and try make up on because god knows Joe wouldn’t, it confused her why Jack had such a prominent feminine side- Joe had never been like this. But she guessed some boys were just feminine.

She remembers watching Jack running around their parents’ living room in a pink dress and tiara with matching lipgloss.   
Their mum laughed, picking up her youngest child and saying “ohh Jacky you’re such a pretty girl!”  
May knew she was joking, Jack didn’t. It felt right to him.

Joe had been sort of disappointed Jack wasn’t as similar to him, he always wanted a little brother, and he had one, but Jack didn’t really fit that box to him. He loved Jack with his whole heart but he didn’t dismiss the joy on the little boy’s face when their dad let him wear one of May’s old dresses to soccer one Saturday.

When Jack was ten years old his best friend was a girl named Sophie. She was always referred to as a tomboy, she dressed in sports clothes and had short hair, loved soccer and superheroes. Jack didn’t understand why he felt like tomboy was a word for him. He also didn’t understand why it wasn’t. He began calling himself that. He and Sophie were “the tomboys”, they would run around telling everyone they met this. They didn’t question it, hell, a lot of people thought Jack was also born a girl. I mean, what little boy calls himself a tomboy when he does masculine things?

Sophie was his best friend up until they went to separate middle schools, Jack can still remember the moment he really felt like maybe something was wrong.  
Sophie was sat at her parents’ computer, telling Jack about something she had just discovered, “Jack, yknow when I said I don’t like boys?”  
He looked up from the floor, “yeah?”  
“There’s a word for it! It’s lesbian. I guess this is me telling you I’m a lesbian.” She laughed, Jack smiled back.  
“So what does lesbian mean?”  
“You’re a girl who fancies girls.”  
“I think I’m a lesbian.” Jack said. Completely seriously.  
“You can’t be, silly, you’re a boy!”  
“Oh. Yeah.”

That conversation stuck with him. He walked home alone as usual, Green Day playing in his earbuds. Part of him knew he was a boy but there was this strong part who wished he was Sophie, wished he was born a girl. 

It confused him and before he knew it he was sat in eighth grade, thirteen years old and talking to this new boy, Alexander Gaskarth. He loved blink and My Chem and Green Day just like Jack did. But this story isn’t about Alex, it’s about Jack.

By this point he had realised a disconnect. He had to tell himself to turn when someone called “Jack”, he had to remind himself he was male. His body didn’t feel like his and his life didn’t either- he was overwhelmed but he told himself this was normal. Alex probably felt this too. Alex probably imagined playing Warped tour in a black skater dress and beaten converse with long pink hair. Alex probably studied the appearance of girls because he felt he should’ve been one. He closed his eyes in the shower and couldn’t remember the last time he looked in the mirror and it didn’t feel like a photo of a stranger.

Everything happened so goddamn fast after that, Jack didn’t even have a second to think. One day he was hiding lipstick in his pencil case as a petrified fifteen year old and the next he was eighteen and signed to Hopeless Records, in a successful band. He had successfully dodged being a man his whole life, that was until he somehow ended up a bro-dude surrounded by drooling girls. He’d always had a thing for dick jokes, that was just his humour. He was a blink-182 fan for fucksake but somehow this constant reference to male genitalia had translated to “I have male genitalia and I want you to see it.” Which was not his message.

Jack’s first full-force gender breakdown happened in a hotel somewhere in Florida in 2007. All Time Low were gaining serious traction and interviews had been lined up for the entire week of So Wrong, It’s Right’s release. He had always felt uncomfortable with male language but with not having a moment of privacy and living with three proper “lads”, it all became too much. He stood in front of his shit hotel mirror in only a pair of dark grey boxers. 

His hips did not curve.

His chest was so flat he thought it might just cave in.

His shoulders were too broad and his Adam’s apple was so prominent it looked like it could burst through his thin skin.

His jawline was so sharp it could probably cut diamonds.

His body hair was thick and black like the short, messy hair that sat atop his head.

The bulge in his underwear made him sick.

He covered his face with his hands and began to sob, “w-why I do look like that?” He choked, cringing at the deep sound of their voice. He felt so male. Every feature of his body and his face and his personality screamed “man”. He fell to his knees, physical pain drowned out by his screams of despair. He was trapped in a body that was not his yet that felt too simple of a description for something so soul crushing. Something that excluded him from every poor soul who knew of his grim existence.

If Jack Barakat had one wish, he would be biologically female. He would be soft and his hips would curve, his thighs and legs would be beautifully shaped and his voice would belong to him, it would be her’s rather than his. His body would belong to her. He would be badass girl guitarist of All Time Low as apposed to the annoying dude who played guitar in All Time Low.

Jack lost sleep in his dreams. In thoughts of flowing skirts and eye makeup envied by the gods. In high voices and heels. In jealousy of the girls who threw them their bras as if they were trying to make him remember who he wasn’t. Jack spent hours on Pinterest looking at gorgeous alternative girls he would die to be. He browsed makeup stores on incognito, his mouse always hovered over pretty dresses and things he knew he couldn’t buy. By 2011 it had gotten so bad he was sleeping late and missing things, something he had never done before.

“Where the fuck is Jack?!” Alex practically screamed, hands on his head.  
“Still in his bunk I think, he told me had issues falling asleep.” Zack added.  
Alex bounded over to the younger boy’s bunk, “wakey wakey Jacky we have an interview in twenty.” He pulled back Jack’s curtain and continuously slapped him until his bleary brown eyes slowly opened.  
“‘Lex I’m exhausted.” Jack groaned.  
“Well maybe try and sleep before eight am.” Alex was pissed, Jack was his best friend but god could he be annoying.

“So you’re All Time Low?” The over enthusiastic interviewer smiled.  
“Yeah.” Alex nodded.  
“A very tired All Time Low?”  
“Absolutely.” Alex nodded, Jack hadn’t uttered a word yet.  
“Why don’t you introduce yourselves for anyone who doesn’t know you guys?”  
“My name is Alex and I play guitar and sing.”  
Jack took a deep breath, “my name is Jack and I make dick jokes and sometimes play guitar.” He plastered a grin on, attempting to cure his gut feelings and internal screaming.  
“So how are you guys dealing with the UK?” The interviewer asked.  
“Alex is from here so obviously we like it but yeah! One of our favourite places to come.” Jack smiled.  
“We’re super excited.” Alex said, moving closer to Jack, sensing his friend’s anxiety.  
“Are there any ladies this weather?” Interviewers were fucking annoying, why did they think it was it their business?  
Jack just wanted to say “yeah, myself” but he didn’t. “Alex.” He laughed, Alex pretended to swoon.  
“Sadly no.” Alex laughed.

As they walked out of the building and bid their goodbyes Alex looked over at Jack, “hey dude, you alright?” He asked, voice laced with concern and typical Alex Gaskarth comfort.  
“Yeah.” Jack nodded, just trying to keep walking and keep his mind off of the nagging feeling that he should actually pay attention to his thoughts and get help.  
“Tell me when you’re ready.”  
Curse Alexander William Gaskarth and his goddamn heart of gold.

That night Jack was on food duty for the band before the show, he was queuing outside of taco bell when a tall girl, maybe 5’9 came up to him.  
“Hey I’m Stella and you’re Jack from All Time Low, right? If not this is super embarrassing.” She blushed.  
“Yeah!” He grinned and she looked like she might just burst into tears.  
“I just wanted to let you know that you and your band have really given me the courage to be myself. You guys told me it was fucking sick to be who you are. Two years ago I was a suicidal boy and now look at me! I’m hot as fuck and I may have named myself after a song of yours- sorry, I’m rambling.” She giggled.  
“No, you’re good.” She used to be a boy. That was all Jack could think about. “Do you want me to sign anything?” He smiled, her black sharpie catching his eye.  
“Oh yeah! My copy of Nothing Personal.” Stella handed it over, still sporting a dramatic blush and a powerful grin.  
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Don’t stop smiling, hopefully I’ll see you tonight.” Jack smiled as he handed the girl her cd, she took it happily and waved as she walked off.

He saw her in the crowd that night, pink hair standing out strong as she sung her heart out. Jack felt his eyes sting with tears the moment he began the first note to Stella.

Jack couldn’t sleep that night, usually it wouldn’t bother him at all, he hadn’t slept well in months but Stella’s words repeated in his head like an ear worm. 

“Two years ago I was a suicidal boy”

Two years ago she was a boy.

Something in Jack envied Stella’s ability to state that. Jack wanted that for himself and it was killing him.

In 2012 Jack found the word he was looking for.

Transgender.

It rung alarm bells in his head. He repeated the word to himself like Alex repeated song lyrics in rehearsal. Jack couldn’t wipe the word from his skin.

Transgender.

When he looked in the mirror, the disconnect wasn’t ambiguous and painless but yearning to see a woman looking back at him. It was as if someone had just pointed out a massive pimple in the middle of his face. It had always been there but now it was obvious.

It took Jack approximately four and a half days before he was spending hours on his laptop researching hormone replacement therapy and every goddamn surgery on offer.

Jack could remember the second the discomfort she felt with “he” and “Jack” became punches in the gut. 

She knew she always would be Jack Barakat in the best and worst ways possible. On the good side of things; she would be loud, make people laugh and play guitar like a fucking boss. On the shit side; friends and family would still call her he, fans would hold her to feigned masculinity and interviewers would act like nothing changed. It hurt. It hurt like hell. She never wanted to be a trans girl, she wanted to be a girl.

Things were more difficult now that Jack knew the secret she was harbouring. 

She felt trapped, she knew what she wanted and she couldn’t have it. She was stuck in one place and itching to move, she could barely open her eyes and look at herself.

She had to physically hold herself back from correcting every person to walk the earth when they called her “sir”. She had to remind herself she couldn’t buy fitted women’s band tees. She wasn’t All Time Low frontwoman. As time went on she was more angry than sad, she was angry that she wasn’t born female, she was angry she couldn’t just transition now, she was furious when someone called her anything remotely male. She was just fucking angry. 

The minute All Time Low were off tour that fall Jack began therapy in secret. It was fascinating in a way. She was so in the public eye yet she was doing something so major so secretly, she liked it. She liked the mischievous danger and was happy knowing her end goal was in sight, far but in sight. Her therapist immediately referred to her as a woman the minute she knew why Jack was there and Jack fucking loved it. 

Christmas 2012 arrived and it was weird. On one hand she was still riding the gender therapy high but she was also still “one of the guys” and worst of all, she was still her parents’ son. She was handed cards that said a name that wasn’t hers and presents for a man who had never existed. For the first time in her twenty-four years she wished for Christmas to end. She wished for her family to leave her and for Alex to stop kissing her under the mistletoe because he thought it was funny.

In January Jack was finally diagnosed with gender dysphoria and she cried. The tears of happiness rang through her empty apartment, only stopping when she realised she had no one to tell. Not even Alex would share her joy. Hell, she was positive most of the people she knew would be the opposite of happy in this situation. That was her problem. How would she tell people? What the fuck would she say? How could she explain herself?

Being a world class procrastinator, Jack stayed silent. She had one more appointment before she would possibly be prescribed estrogen and not one person knew. In all honesty she thought it was funny. That was also a problem Jack had, she was not a very serious person. Serious and big things scared the shit out of her, she was surprised at her ability to deal with this.

The Spring Fever Tour marked her final tour as a total male. Of course no one knew, but she was beyond excited. Her first injection date was set and she was counting down the seconds, still annoyed she couldn’t tell anyone however. And I know what you’re thinking “why didn’t she just tell someone?” well when you’re trans, there’s almost an expectation you won’t be accepted. She loved her friends and adored her family. She wasn’t ready to see them go. She wasn’t ready to see Alex’s face painted in disgust. She wasn’t ready for Zack to ask her if this was the right decision. She was definitely not ready for her parents to disown her. Maybe it would all be fine but that small chance of chaos petrified her.

Jack practically ran to her doctor’s office the day she got her first estrogen injection. She knew nothing would change at first but the prospect of things changing in the future made her more excited than her natural state of “Jack Barakat: too much energy”. That was another thing. Her name. She had to change it. Girls called Jack were rad but that name just reminded her of what a fucking boy she was, which was not the reminder she needed.

She was watching TV when she heard it. She had no idea what it was, some shit reality TV show but when a punk looking girl said her name was Michelle, she felt something.

Michelle.

That was her name.

All she knew was a month later she was stood in court trying to get her name legally changed, probably a bad idea considering she still hadn’t informed anyone but hey, maybe that would lessen the blow. People knowing they can’t change her. She’s a woman. End of. Her ID says so and so will her body soon enough, no one could argue when they were the ones who looked stupid when they said “he”.

Two months later and All Time Low were on a short break from touring and Michelle finally saw the difference. Her face was softer and her hair (which had now grown to nearly her jaw) was tied back in a tiny pony tail, giving her the most feminine appearance she had ever had. The problem arose when Alex was spamming her phone and (assumably him) someone was rattling her door.

She sighed and walked over to the door, unlocking and opening it.

Alex was in skinny jeans and a blink t-shirt on the other side, he looked her up and down.  
“Jack?” He said.  
“Yeah?” She replied, raising an eyebrow at his mildly shocked and confused tone.  
“Have you-“  
“Well are you coming in?” She cut him off, trying hard not to burst out laughing at his face as he heard the changed pitch of her voice.  
“Uh, yeah- yeah.” Alex shuffled in, Michelle following close behind.

They sat on her sofa when Alex began to speak again, “So- wait this is really distracting me. Have you been moisturising or something, man? You look... different.”  
Michelle put her hand on her mouth and laughed, mannerisms more feminine than the last Alex saw a month or so ago.  
The papers on the coffee table caught Alex’s eye, Michelle was almost waiting for him to read them. There was prescriptions for estrogen, letters addressed to “Miss M Barakat”, legal name change forms, therapist letters and all sorts. Michelle was sure they spoke for themselves.  
Alex looked like a deer in headlights and the atmosphere tensed as Michelle felt her little secret escaping her.  
“Dude have you gotten married!?!” Alex shrieked.  
Michelle laughed louder than she ever had before.  
“What?!?” Alex looked frantic, “who the fuck is Michelle then?!?”  
“Alex dude, that’s me.” She continued laughing and Alex’s faced managed to get even more confused.  
Michelle got up, trying not to literally collapse from the sheer hilarity of Alex’s naivety, she ran to her bedroom and dug through her bedside drawer in an attempt to find the most obvious letter she had.  
She handed it to Alex, still sniggering.  
He skimmed over it, taking in the few important words.

**01/12/2013  
Mr Jack Barakat **

Okay so it’s definitely his, Alex thought.

**Your gender dysphoria diagnosis has been confirmed.**

“What?” Alex said, once again, extremely confused.  
“Read it again.” Michelle sniggered.

His eyes hovered over a section about possible treatment measures, leading him to have another look at one of the letters scattered on Jack’s coffee table. He looked at the original letter again. Michelle could see the dots connecting in Alex’s head, especially when he read about the effects and time scales of hormone replacement therapy before looking up at the girl stood in front of him.   
“Are you a chick?” Alex asked, voice slightly quieter than before.  
Michelle laughed again, “let me check.” She said, looking down the neck of her t-shirt, “looks like it!”  
“Oh.” Michelle could tell Alex didn’t really know what to feel or say.  
He stood up and hugged her, “I’m still your best friend.” She whispered in his ear and he pulled her in closer.  
They pulled away and Alex asked quietly, “what’s gonna happen?”  
“Lex, it’s not a bad thing. I’m not gonna change like as a person. I’m just happier.” She put a hand on his shoulder.  
“Yeah, I guess I’m just scared.” He gave a sad smile, “please just promise me this isn’t the end of All Time Low.”  
“Of course not. Never.”

And it certainly wasn’t. 

The only obstacle was telling Zack and Rian.

Michelle was sure no one could take it better than Rian. The minute she told him he was dragging her to his car to go to the mall. He bought her pizza and told her nothing would change between them. She kept Rian and his words close, knowing their relationship would only become more special as the days went on and things got harder.

Zack reacted like Zack. He hugged her and told her he’d always love her before cuddling her and watching some shit TV. She was overjoyed at how the band had reacted and how nothing felt different yet, although the future worried her. She still looked like Jack. Her black and blonde hair was shaggy and short with the top in a little pony tail, her tits were gone the moment she put on a hoodie and her voice’s pitch hadn’t changed much considering she hadn’t been voice training for long. She could still post on Instagram and no one would question it- to the world she was still Jack. No shit their relationships hadn’t changed, she was still a goddamn man. It crushed her.

In 2014 All Time Low’s members were no longer Alex Gaskarth, Zack Merrick, Rian Dawson and Jack Barakat. The moment they completed Future Hearts it was officially Alex Gaskarth, Zack Merrick, Rian Dawson and Mia Barakat. She remembered the day they got the first physical Future Hearts copies, they were staying at Alex’s place and Rian was the one to pick up the package. Zack ripped it open and they all took a CD each.  
Alex opened his to the credits, “Michelle! Michelle look!”  
“Holy fuck.” She smiled.   
Rian ran off and came back with Michelle’s copy of Don’t Panic: It’s Longer Now! and opened it at the credits to compare.  
“Two years is a long time.” Zack smiled, proudly.  
“A year’s a long time.” Alex said, looking at Michelle.  
“Oh yeah, I started gender therapy a year ago.” She grinned.  
They pulled her into a group hug and she was sure she could feel Rian crying. In that moment she felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

In 2015 the world was reintroduced to Michelle Lynn “Mia” Barakat. Her palms were beyond sweating at this point, pressing “send tweet” had never been harder. 

**Mia Barakat tweeted:**   
_Stoked to announce our new song Something’s Gotta Give will be premiered on BBC Radio 1 on January 12!_   
**01/05/2015 4:34pm twitter for iphone**

The first few replies didn’t seem to notice the profile change from “Jack Barakat”, “JackAllTimeLow” and an outdated photo of Mia as a male to her real name and a photo from their newest photoshoot which was yet to be released.

However, people always notice.

**Generic All Time Low Fan:**   
_Has Jack left atl? I’m following some girl and I can’t find Jack’s account :(_

Sometimes she could have fun.

**Mia Barakat replied to Generic All Time Low Fan:**   
_Jack was eaten by a giant squid and has been replaced by me. Not only am I much hotter but no squids are after me :)_

And sometimes she couldn’t.

**Generic Arsehole:**   
_HIS name is Jack. He will always be male. Do not be fooled by his sudden profile change. All Time Low are an all male rock band. None of them are gay either._

At first, comments like that didn’t phase her, they were stupid at base and just annoying but after the fiftieth mention of “Jack” she felt fucking sick. She turned off her phone and let the guys do the rest of the promo. Maybe if she kept her mouth shut they’d move on.

**Generic Music Update Account:**   
_All Time Low make a comeback on Alt Press in anticipation of their new album, Future Hearts. Their cover features Zack, Rian, Alex and a fully female Jack._

“Oh for fucksake!” She practically screamed. “Is it really that hard.”

She knew it wasn’t easy, to change the way you look at and refer to a whole person but she wasn’t asking for perfection. She was asking for respect. If they can call her female they can call her the right fucking name.

Things became easier, Future Hearts was received better than anything they could’ve ever imagined. Especially for their first release without “Jack”. 

Michelle cried, a lot, at the messages she received. From ones saying they had never seen her happier to ones saying she had given them the power to be themselves. She cried looking at photos of herself in the past, wishing she could tell the terrified boy that soon enough she’d be the most powerful woman in pop punk. Every piece of pain she had went through was worth it for the moment she first walked out on stage knowing every person in that room saw the person she saw. 

She savoured the first moments her purple painted fingernails played the riffs she had poured her emotions into all those years ago. Back then she thought being on stage was the happiest and most carefree she could be but each and every show in 2015, 2016, 2017 and every one after proved that idea wrong. She couldn’t explain the sheer joy she felt tying her own bra to her mic stand, as stupid as it sounded. No longer was she jealous of the brightly coloured haired girls in the crowd but she knew she was one of them.

In 2020 Michelle Barakat looked in the mirror and saw herself.


End file.
